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Chapter 37: Bodyguards and Badges

Remus sat in the waiting room, contemplating his thumbs.   He’d tried reading, but his nerves were too edgy.   He rather envied Danger, who had her knitting to keep her hands occupied, and Scribner, who was reviewing the facts of their case one more time.  

I swear they’re delaying on purpose...

No, I can’t go into this assuming they’re prejudiced.   They might not be.   Then I’ll just look stupid.   Assume neutrality, but be prepared for anything.

His capricious mind chose this phrase as a reason to present him with a replay of the nightmare he’d had last night, which had brought him wide awake at three AM, panting.   Danger had, naturally, awakened as well, but curiously, she hadn’t been privy to it, so he’d had to tell her about it.  

And it was bizarre.   I was hovering over a mountaintop, watching Bellatrix Lestrange dueling with Sirius.   She managed to work him around to a point where he had a long drop behind him, then made him dodge a Killing Curse and duck right into something else, I didn’t even see what, but the point is that it knocked him backwards...

And then Aletha climbed up there, just in time to hear Bellatrix laughing and gloating.   She didn’t say anything, just walked up to Bellatrix, looked at her for a moment, then shoved her off the cliff too.   She watched her fall, then turned around and started climbing back down.   So strange...

The dream had been so real that it had given him a wrench to see Sirius alive at the breakfast table in the morning, and Aletha laughing at some joke he’d cracked, calling him names and kissing the back of his head as she passed.  

She seems — she is — so happy and calm.   But by the same token, she could do some pretty awful things without turning a hair... some part of me had no trouble believing she would kill Sirius’ murderer...

The door into the hearing room opened.   "Mr. Lupin?" said the young wizard on the other side.  

"Yes?"

"They’re ready for you."

"Thank you."   Remus waited for Danger to finish tucking away her knitting, then offered her his arm.  

"Nervous?" Scribner asked them quietly.

"Oh, not at all," Danger said airily.   "I always look green in the mornings, it’s my nervous digestion, don’t mind it in the least."

Remus found himself able to smile a little at her outrageousness.   "A bit," he admitted for himself.

"Don’t be.   We have an excellent case, and justice inclines to our side."

"Be still, my heart," Danger said.   "A lawyer who believes in justice."

"Say rather that I hope for it, Mrs. Lupin."   Scribner inclined his head to her.   "Shall we?"

"After you," Remus said.

Lawyer, client, and client’s wife entered the hearing room.  

xXxXx

"Well?" was Aletha’s first remark when Remus and Danger appeared in the living room that evening.

Remus shrugged.  

"How informative."

"Don’t know what we can tell you," said Danger, sitting down.   "There’s a panel of three judges..."

"There’s something you can tell me right there."

"I would sing my song without a burden," said Danger irritably.

"Snappy and quoting Shakespeare.   You must have had quite a day.   Come to Mama Letha, now."   Aletha wiggled her fingers suggestively.  

"Are you trying to lure my wife away from me with base and unnatural practices?" Remus inquired from the couch.

"Yes, of course I am.   Come on, Danger, you’re bound to be tense after that."

"Remus probably needs it more than I do..."

Remus lifted a hand, and a curtain of fire descended behind Danger and nudged her forward.   She bared her teeth at him, then walked very deliberately across the room and sat down on a footstool in front of Aletha’s chair.   Within a few moments, she had her eyes closed and was moaning quietly as Aletha massaged her shoulders.  

"If I promise to do you next, can I get some kind of coherent account of your day?" Aletha asked Remus over Danger’s head.  

"There really isn’t much to tell, Letha.   It was mostly opening statements — the WFS officer saying that they’re just following the law, Scribner saying that the law’s outdated, and a third party, an old friend of yours, direct from the Minister of Magic himself.   Do you remember a Madam Dolores Umbridge?"

"Umm."   Aletha shut her eyes in thought.   "Small dumpy woman.   Looks like a toad.   Tried to tell me there couldn’t have been a dementor in the London Den the day I stopped one from Kissing Sirius.   And didn’t she also try to throw a tomato at him the day of his trial?"

"That’s the one.   If you’ll believe it, she was wearing exactly the same lime-green cardigan today that she was when I set it on fire back in 1990."

Aletha laughed aloud.   "So what was she doing there?"

"Supposedly, she’s there as an observer.   In reality, I think she’s trying to swing the decision against us.   When she took the floor, she stayed as far from our table as was humanly possible, and said several things that were just this side of insulting."

"Who’s insulting?" Sirius asked, having Apparated in just in time to hear this word.

Remus recapped his day.   Sirius grimaced.   "More bad news, Moony.   Word in the cubicles is that there’s new legislation in the works that will make it illegal for employers to hire ‘dangerous’ types.   And guess what types are in the small print as dangerous."

"What else is new," said Remus.  

"Whenever this law comes up, Umbridge’s name is attached to it."

"I wasn’t actually asking, but thank you for telling me."   Remus sighed, leaning back into the couch. "So we’re fighting not one, but two enemies."

"Three," said Danger, opening her eyes.  

"Three?" Sirius asked, sitting down in his armchair.  

"Scribner was able to give us a rundown on the judges, and one of them is publicly and fervently anti-anything-unhuman."

"But we only need a two-thirds decision," Remus said.   "It’s the other two we have to convince."

"Well, here’s hoping."   Aletha nudged Danger in the small of the back and beckoned Remus over.   "May the Pack’s days of separation be few and soon ended."

"Amen," said Sirius heartily.  

xXxXx

The next morning dawned overcast and cool.   The Pack-adults awoke slowly, easing into wakefulness.   Aletha went downstairs first, to check on the potion in her cauldron — the boiling times were a little off from what she was used to, both because she was using the powdered dragon’s teeth and because she had two portions there instead of one.   After she had checked the potion’s consistency, she walked around her cauldron and peered out the small window of the room to see if there was frost on the ground.  

She yelled in shock and dived to the floor, yanking out her wand just in time to shield her cauldron from flying glass as a rock crashed through the window.   One or two shards of glass hit her, but a quick "Evanesco!" removed them.  

Footsteps pounded on the stairs.   "Stay where you are!" Aletha shouted.   "I’m fine, just stay where you are!"

"What do you mean, stay?" demanded Sirius.   "What was that?   Did you drop something?"

"Why are there people all around the Den?" asked Danger’s voice from farther away.  

"I don’t know," said Aletha, crossing her fingers.   She’d been able to see that two of the people outside the window were carrying signs, and that the wording on them was anything but complimentary.  

"I do," said Remus in disgust.  

Aletha sighed.   She’d been hoping he wouldn’t notice.   I should have known better.   If it’s to do with us possibly getting hurt, he notices everything.  

"They’ve got signs," Sirius said, his voice absent as he tried to read the lettering through the window.   "‘Leave Our Children Alone’?   ‘You Have No Rights’?   Oh, for Merlin’s sake..."

"Sirius, no," Aletha tried to say, but she was too late.   The front door creaked open.  

A chorus of angry yells and the sounds of debris hitting a Shield Spell.   "All right, clear out!" Sirius bellowed.   "All of you, off our land before I arrest you!"

"Our land?   You one of them too?" shouted a man’s voice.  

"You filthy turncoat!" screamed a woman.   "How do you know you won’t wake up to find your children slaughtered some morning?"

"Is that a threat?" Sirius shot back.  

Somewhat subdued mumbling, but no clear answer.  

"For the second time, this is private property.   Get off our land.   You have three minutes.   Anyone I find here after that, I’ll arrest.   Tell your friends out back so they don’t end up doing penal servitude."

Grumbling noises, cut off by the closing door.  

Aletha wanted to bang her head against the floor, but it was littered with broken glass.   She repaired the window with her wand, then performed the necessary operation.   Why do people have to be so stupid?  

"Letha, will you Unbreak the back windows?" Sirius called from the front of the house.   "Danger, Moony, can you get the ones upstairs?"

"Already on it," Danger called back.  

"Will do," Aletha answered.   She cast the first spell from where she was, then stood up to check on the potion (unaltered) and the people outside (dispersing, but not before one middle-aged wizard caught sight of her and mouthed something Aletha wasn’t sure she’d seen correctly, and didn’t want to).   She watched them around the corner, stepped into the music room to cast Unbreakable Charms on the back windows, then hurried back up the stairs, catching the side windows as she went.  

Sirius passed her on the way.   "I’m calling the Ministry," he said after their quick kiss.   "They’re not getting away with this."  

In his bedroom, Remus was standing beside a window.   Aletha crossed to him and stood beside him, looking out at the demonstrators lining the road.   "They can’t stay there," she said with carefully firm certainty.   "Sirius is calling in the MLE’s right now.   They’ll have to prove they’re no threat to secrecy or disperse."

Remus leaned on the windowsill.   "They’ll find some way to stay," he said quietly.   "I’m sure of it.   Muggle-repelling charms on the perimeters of our land, where we can’t control it.   Maybe spells on the signs to make them seem to be about something else.   They’ll find a way."

"Don’t let them get to you.   They’re bigoted fools with nothing better to do."

"I’d just feel so much better if I were sure they’re wrong."

"They’re wrong," said Aletha baldly, surprising a chuckle out of Remus.   "Who do you think knows you better, that bunch of Fwooper-bait or your own sister?"

Remus turned to her with a shadow of his usual smile.   "I’m proud to have a sister like you," he said.   "Though I could wish you didn’t have to be associated with me publicly."

"You could.   I couldn’t."

"But it’s bound to hurt your image..."

Aletha suggested an unpleasant destination for her image and anyone who cared about it.   Remus cracked another smile.   "You have some very deeply rooted insecurities, Remus Lupin, if you think we’re going to give you up on account of image," she wound up.  

"Yes, do remember who you’re talking to," said Danger, coming into the room.   "This is the woman who was willing to look like an unwed mother for four years."

"Not that there’s much stigma attached to that anymore, but point taken," Remus acknowledged.   "I do seem to have a built-in ‘curl up and hide’ mode, don’t I?"

"As long as you’re not seriously considering giving up the custody suit, you can curl up and hide all you want on your off hours," said Aletha.   "We’ll even help you."   She frowned.   "How did those goons get onto our property, anyway?   What happened to the wards?"

"Let’s see," said Remus, tapping his wand three times against the wall.   A colored picture appeared in front of him, and he sighed.   "We’ve let our own spells deteriorate," he said.   "Carelessness, mostly.   And the blood wards are quiescent right now because Draco isn’t here."

"Well, putting our own spells back up can be our first step," said Danger.   "And wouldn’t it be interesting if we found evidence that some of these... protestors helped along the deterioration?"

"More than interesting," said Aletha, finding a grin coming to her face.   "That’s actionable."

"It counts as breaking and entering," Remus finished.   "A warded boundary is considered the same as a locked door."   He peered out the window again.   "Not that I want to see any of them go to Azkaban, but having them barred from coming here again might be nice."

"I’ll run down and remind Sirius," said Aletha, already on her way to the door.   "And we should probably alert Albus.   The cubs might get fallout."

"Oh, please," said Danger scornfully.   "As if Albus Dumbledore would allow anyone like this within a mile of the school."

"He had to allow the dementors last year," Remus pointed out.   "His jurisdiction ends at the school gates."

"His official jurisdiction," said Danger, her voice growing quieter to Aletha’s ears as Aletha got farther away.   "They’re bound to beef up security if he thinks it’s needed..."

If Remus replied, it was lost to Aletha.   She took the stairs two at a time, caught Sirius just before he pulled his head out of the fire and told him about the wards, then went into the kitchen to start breakfast.   Danger might be the best cook in the family, but Aletha’d picked up enough to keep herself from starving.   And there was only so much harm she could do boiling a kettle and putting bread in the toaster, which was in mezzo-soprano mode this morning.   "Voi, che sapete" from The Marriage of Figaro filled the air; Aletha hummed along, and felt her mood brightening.  

Then she looked at the newspaper and scowled.  

So this is why everyone came running.  

The headline, in larger type than Aletha had seen used since Sirius’ trial, read:

WEREWOLF SEEKS CUSTODY OF 14-YR-OLD GIRL

"I’ve raised her since she was small," says Remus Lupin

WFS officer: Werewolves "constitutionally unable to parent"

Aletha was vaguely aware that the toaster had switched over to an aria from Carmen.

We must thank Arthur.   A singing, psychic toaster.  

Her first instinct was to hide the newspaper, destroy it, anything so that Remus didn’t have to read this headline, and the article accompanying it, which was surely just as bad.   Then she realized how silly that was.  

In the first place, he’s an adult, fully able to handle himself.   In the second, he knows what people are saying and will say about him.   And in the third, he’ll hear this from the officer in court today anyway, so why should I bother to try to hide it from him?  

She flattened the edge of the paper where she’d crumpled it in her hand, laid it on the table facing towards the door, and busied herself with making tea.  

xXxXx

The Pride was greeted in the Great Hall that morning with stares and whispers.   This was nothing new to them, but the particular target was.  

"Psst, Granger-Lupin!" hissed a fifth year Slytherin girl as they passed that House table.   "How’s your daddy?   Owwwoooo!   Owwwoooo!"

Hermione stopped dead and faced the Slytherin, whose friends all began to snicker.   "Were you trying to howl?" she asked.  

The girl nodded, grinning meanly, her friends now convulsed with giggles.  

"Because it sounded more like a demented chipmunk, if you ask me," Hermione continued blithely.  

The giggles stopped short.  

Hermione tipped her head back and let loose with her best impression of Moony and Padfoot outside after dark on the full moon.   All conversation in the Hall stopped dead as everyone turned to look.  

"That is a howl," Hermione said, bringing her head down and staring the Slytherin girl in the face.   "And I can teach you how to do it, if you ask me very nicely.   Otherwise, save your breath."

"Awesome!" Ron hissed as Hermione rejoined the Pride.  

"That was great, Neenie," Draco said.

"Thanks."   Hermione pressed her hands against the sides of her face, trying to rub her blush away.   "I just hope I don’t regret it."

"Don’t worry, you will," said Harry as they arrived at the Gryffindor table.  

"You’re so supportive," Hermione said huffily.

"No, just realistic."

Fred leaned down the table as the Pride found seats. "You’re in the newspaper," he said to Hermione

"No, really?   I never would have guessed."   Hermione took the Daily Prophet Fred held out to her and skimmed the front page.   As she read, her lips pulled back from her teeth, and she began to breathe more heavily.   Harry frowned.   He knew the danger signals from of old, but he was too far away to do anything about it.   Draco was on the other side of the table, Ron probably wouldn’t move fast enough, Luna was oblivious, and Neville and Meghan were still wrapped up in each other since they’d made up their fight...

He caught Ginny’s eye.   Get the paper, he mouthed, indicating Hermione.

Ginny nodded and with one swift pull, had the newspaper away from her friend’s hands.   Hermione bristled and hissed in indignation.   Ron caught her wrist as she made to swipe at Ginny’s cheek.   "Snape’s looking," he said in her ear.  

Hermione subsided.   Harry signed thanks to Ginny, while reconsidering his original thoughts on Ron’s relative swiftness.   He’s not nearly as dense as he used to be.

"Should I read this aloud?" Ginny asked the Pride at large, shaking the paper.   "Just so we all know what’s in it?"

"Sure," said Draco, mashing some scrambled eggs under his fork.   "Let’s hear all the lies at once."

"There ought to be laws against people like Rita Skeeter," said Hermione, still glaring at the newspaper.   "There really should be.   In the Muggle world, you can’t print things that aren’t true about people."

"They’re not printing anything that’s not true here," Ginny pointed out.   "Just people’s opinions.   You can’t really say an opinion’s true or not true."

"Moony isn’t dangerous!   And he is so ‘fit to parent’!"  

"We know that, Hermione," said Neville.   "But the rest of the world doesn’t.   Isn’t that why he’s doing this in court, so that the rest of the world will know it?"

"Isn’t that why you changed your name?" Meghan added.  

Hermione nodded.   "Read, please," she said to Ginny.   "Let’s just hear it all at once and get it over with."

The article was exactly like the headline — true in essence, but written in such a way that no one could fail to be sure that the rapacious werewolf Remus Lupin had designs on the purity and innocence of the poor child he’d corrupted by raising her.  

"How can she be so pure and innocent if he’s corrupted her already?" Luna wanted to know.  

Lupin’s wife Danger, the sister and guardian of the child in question, was prone to impulsive decisions — witness her quick marriage to Lupin, only two weeks after meeting him — and subject to a debilitating Muggle disease which, it was heavily hinted, might have damaged her brain.

"How did she know about that?" Harry asked in surprise when Ginny reached this part of the article.   "We haven’t told anyone about that.   Except you lot, and you wouldn’t blab."

"Haven’t," said Ron, as Neville and Luna both shook their heads.   "You didn’t have a Healer in or anything?"

"No, Letha did it.   She ran all the tests and everything..."

"But she did them at the Bonham School," said Hermione, bisecting a fried egg with a vicious smack of her fork.   "And she did research on lupus, too.   Those results are probably either publicly available or someone sufficiently sneaky could get to them."

"But there wouldn’t be any names attached," Draco objected.

"She took a lucky guess," Hermione said.   "Or worked it out somehow.   There would be age and sex and things like that on the test sheets."

"And it doesn’t really matter how she got it," Harry finished.   "The point is, she’s wrong.   And we have to work on proving it."

"How?" asked Ginny, folding the newspaper.  

Draco made a face.   "We’ll have to do something that we hate above all else," he said.   "Something that strikes contrary to the very centers of our beings.   We’ll have to act... normal."

"You made a good start with your howl," said Luna to Hermione.  

Hermione smiled wanly.   "Thanks, Luna."

Harry sat up a bit straighter.   "Yeah, thanks, Luna," he echoed.   "You’re right.   You’re more right than I think you know."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"Why should we have to act normal?" Harry asked Draco.   "For that matter, what is normal?   To Muggles, nothing we do here is normal.   Same for pureblood snobs.   Why should we try to fit someone else’s definition of normal?"

"Because if you don’t, someone else is going to think you’re messed up and decide against you?" Neville suggested.  

Harry shook his head.   "I’m not talking about doing things that make people think we’re messed up," he said.   "We’re not about to savage the first years and writing our homework in their blood."

Draco snapped his fingers.   "Nuts, there go my plans for tonight."   Luna looked sidelong at him.   "Kidding," he hastily added.   "Kidding."

"But you’re not everybody else," Ron said, nodding.   "There’s no reason you should stop doing the stuff that makes you you, just because somebody thinks it’s weird."

"We’ll stand by you," Ginny added.   "Pride together."

"Pride forever," everyone chorused quietly.  

Eight hands were piled in the center of the table.  

xXxXx

The Pack-adults had the satisfaction of seeing several of the protestors, including the one who had thrown the rock that broke the window in the potions room, arrested by MLE personnel before breakfast was over.   At the same time, a visitor arrived.  

"Wotcher, everyone," said Tonks, spinning around a chair and straddling it.   "Any chance of a brew?"

"Let me bring the kettle up," said Danger, setting said object on the stove.   "How are you?"

Tonks shrugged.   "Life as usual.   Charlie says hello.   Sirius, is there any way to tell if a man’s ever going to pop the question?"

"Oh, give him some time," said Sirius, rebuttering the last bite of his toast.   "You’ve only been together what, three years?"

"Five," Tonks corrected.   "Officially.   We were friends a long time before that, but we started dating sixth year.   And we’ve been living together for a year now, and still nothing."

"He’s probably working up his courage," said Aletha.   "He may be afraid you’ll brain him if he dares to ask."

"I’ll brain him if he keeps on not asking!   Just because I have a job doesn’t mean I don’t want to get married!"

"He might have been waiting for you to finish your training," Remus suggested.   "And for his job to stabilize from that move last year.   There could be lots of reasons.   But I’m positive it’s not because he doesn’t care about you, or want you to stay with him.   Maybe he’s just shy."

"Shy?   How do you get shy out of dragon-keeper?   Thanks," Tonks added as Danger handed her a mug.  

"Shy around people," Remus said promptly.   "Animals don’t talk back.   As long as you’re neither food nor threat, you can handle them.   People have all kinds of strange and incomprehensible motivations."

"Women more than most," Sirius added, and automatically blocked Aletha’s smack to his ear, taking advantage of the wrist hold to pull her over to him and kiss her temple.   "For blokes, at least."

Tonks blew on her tea.   "So what you’re saying is, don’t give up?"

"Right," said Danger.   "You could always start dropping hints.   Go visit his parents and comment how they seem so happy together.   Come visit us, we’d love to have you."

"Not to mention it’d be handy to have an extra Auror and a dragon-keeper on the premises in case any of these idiots get ideas again," added Sirius.  

"But wouldn’t I get docked at the Office for it?   They always tell us not to get chummy with the folks we’re bodyguarding..."

"That’s if you don’t know them already," said Remus.   "Right, Sirius?"

"Well..."   Sirius frowned.   "I’m not sure, actually.   I’ll check regs today about that.   But if you’re allowed, sure, come on over."

"And bring your clueless man," Aletha added.   "He won’t stay clueless for long, if we have anything to do with it."

Tonks grinned and took a large swig of tea.   "Thanks.   Ready to go, bodyguardee?"

Remus chuckled.   "When you are, bodyguarder."

xXxXx

Predictably enough, the rest of the school was rather chilly towards Harry and the Pride over the next few weeks.   Harry had expected the Hufflepuffs to be unhappy about his entry into the tournament, since if he hadn’t entered Cedric would have been Hogwarts’ only chance for glory, and he’d known the Slytherins would be nasty to him, because that was the natural order of things.   He’d hoped for some level of sympathy from the Ravenclaws, but most of them seemed to think that he’d done it himself.   He couldn’t really blame them.   Why, why had he ever been so stupid as to put that slip of parchment into the Goblet?  

The news in the papers and the Pack-parents’ letters was almost uniformly bad as well.   The Prophet was following Moony’s quest for Hermione’s custody obsessively, with every article bylined by Rita Skeeter.   "We’re looking for an unbiased reporter the Prophet will print," one of Danger’s letters read about a week and a half after the hearing had started.   "And Gerald’s printing an interview with Remus in the December Quibbler.   Every little bit helps."

"I’m glad we can do something for your family," said Luna to Draco as they lounged in the common room.   "Do you think Mr. Moony will end up winning?"

"I sure hope so," said Draco.   "It never feels right without him there, you know?   Like a piece of us is missing."

"Because it is," said Harry.   "Ron."   He tossed a ball of parchment into the air.  

"Accio!" Ron said, aiming his wand at the parchment.   It zoomed toward him, but lost momentum halfway there and landed on the carpet near his chair.  

"Accio," said Hermione, whisking the ball out of Ron’s grasp as he bent to pick it up.   "You have to say it like you really want it."

"Fine."   Ron pointed his wand at Hermione’s hand, now closed around the ball of parchment.   "Accio."  

Ginny leaned over to Harry under cover of the laughter.   "I guess he really wants her," she whispered.

"I guess so."   Harry got up to help Hermione disentangle herself from a very embarrassed Ron.   "Got a lot of power behind there, haven’t you?" he added, shoving Ron’s shoulder.   "How’s your incantation coming?"

Ron shrugged.   "I have it done, but I still don’t feel like I’m ready."   He had successfully transformed his head for Letha the night after his Trouble-Taking Dance in the courtyard, and with special permission from Professor McGonagall, he and Neville had gone to the Marauders’ Den one evening about a week later to drink their Animagus potion.   "It’s not like there’s a big rush, is there?"

"Didn’t you want to beat me?" Neville inquired from his place on the rug.  

"Not like that’s hard," Ron said airily.

Neville took careful aim.   "Accio Boll—"

"I mean, why would I want to do that?" Ron gabbled out quickly.  

The Pride only managed to settle down when a testy Katie Bell told them all to shut up laughing or she’d hex them to Antarctica.

xXxXx

"I hate Potions, yes I do," Harry sang under his breath as the Gryffindors headed down the stairs toward the dungeons.   "I hate Potions, how about you?"

"Oh, come on, Harry," said Draco.   "Hate Snape, hate the Slytherins, but don’t hate Potions."

"Why hate the Slytherins?" Colleen Lamb asked unexpectedly.   "Some of them are all right."

"Yeah, the dead ones," said Ron, earning a laugh.

Colleen blushed but didn’t retreat into the background as she usually did.   "Some of the living one are all right too," she said quietly.   "You just have to give them a chance."

"Ooh, Colleen likes a Slytherin," said Parvati Patil, giggling.

"Is he the one who writes you blank letters?" asked Lavender Brown.  

"Blank letters?" asked Hermione.  

"She gets letters at breakfast sometimes," said Lavender.   "But there’s nothing written on them.   Just her name on the envelope."

"And she always looks happy when she gets them," Parvati added.   "And runs out of the Hall without eating anything else."

Colleen was leaning forward now, her hair covering her face, a face that was almost certainly brick red.  

"Stop teasing her," said Neville sharply.   "What are you doing reading her letters anyway?"

"Yeah, that sounds more Slytherin than Gryffindor to me," Draco said, staring at the girls balefully.

"They’re probably just jealous because they’re not pretty enough to have someone write them letters," said Hermione.   "Ignore them, Colleen."

"Sorry," said Lavender, looking contrite.   "Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings."

Colleen mumbled something which could have been an acceptance of the apology just as the Gryffindors rounded the final corner.   Harry stopped short, nearly causing a ten-student pile-up.   The Slytherins were all wearing some sort of badge on their robes.  

"I don’t like this," Hermione whispered.

"Ah, Potter," said Nott, coming forward.   "Like our new fashion?"   He stuck out his skinny chest so that Harry could read the red, glowing words on his badge:

Support CEDRIC DIGGORY —

The REAL Hogwarts Champion

"And that’s not all," Nott went on.   He tapped the badge once with his finger, and bright green letters replaced the red:

POTTER STINKS

Harry felt one surge of heat rise in his chest.   He forced it down.   Nott wasn’t worth it.  

"Really funny, Dora," Draco drawled.   "Just hilarious."

Nott’s face went the color of his original message.   He gave a choked little laugh.   "Playing with my name, Black, you’re so cute.   How’s your werewolf daddy?   Have they decided to put him down yet?"

"Shut your dirty mouth," Ron said angrily.

"Oh, look, a talking weasel!"   Nott spun to face Ron.   "It must have escaped from Hagrid — everything does sooner or later.   How long do you think it’ll be before one of those Scoot things blows up a Beauxbatons horse and gets that lout sacked for good?"

"Nott, you’re so funny, I forgot to laugh," said Hermione coldly.

"And the lady of the hour!   Granger-Lupin!"   Harry wondered if he was the only one hearing a small note of hysteria in Nott’s voice.   Himself, he was rather enjoying watching the Slytherin try to deal with half the Pride at once.   "Care for one of my little gems?"   He stuck a hand into his pocket and pulled out a badge.   "I’ve got plenty.   But don’t touch my hand now, Mudblood slime’s bad for potions."

Ron grabbed Harry’s arm and Neville Draco’s as they both pulled their wands.  

"You keep odd company for someone who doesn’t like Muggleborns," said Hermione, looking pointedly at Dursley.   "Sure, I’ll take one." She snatched the badge from Nott’s hand and drew her own wand.   Nott backed away three paces swiftly, but Hermione wasn’t pointing the wand at him.   Rather, she had it aimed at the badge, and she was muttering under her breath...

"There," she said, tapping the badge twice and putting her wand away.   "Much better."

The badge she affixed to her robes bore the legend:

Support Them BOTH —

CEDRIC DIGGORY and HARRY POTTER

Smiling widely, Hermione pressed her badge to show the alternate message.

Either Way, It’s a HOGWARTS VICTORY

The Gryffindors broke into applause.  

"Very impressive, Miss Granger-Lupin," said Snape from behind her, making her jump.   "Ten points from Gryffindor for magic in the hallways, and a further five for inappropriate additions to your uniform.   And confiscation of the object."   He held out his hand.  

"But they’re all wearing them!" Ron objected, pointing at the Slytherins, whose badges now all sported the red message.  

Harry frowned.   Ron wasn’t quite right.   All the girls were wearing Nott’s badges, and Nott and his hangers-on had them, but Blaise Zabini, loitering at the back of the group, had nothing more than his Slytherin crest on his robes...

"Five more points from Gryffindor for cheek," said Snape to Ron.   "And detention."

Ron looked about ready to explode.  

"Unless you’d prefer it be fifteen points and two detentions," Snape added idly.  

"Calm down," Harry hissed, grabbing Ron’s arm.   Ron shook him off, but didn’t say anything else to Snape, instead stalking inside the dungeon and smashing his bag down onto a table.  

"I hate him," he muttered, sticking his hand inside his bag.   "Greasy stinking git — yow!"

"Well, what do you expect, if you’re going to slam it around like that?" asked Hermione, coming to sit with them, as did Draco.   "Here, let me see it." She inspected the small cut on his finger.   "Ferula."   A small bandage appeared around the finger.   "There, now you won’t get poison in it."

"Thanks, Hermione."   Ron glared once more at Snape, and at Nott, smirking at their table from across the dungeon, POTTER STINKS glowing green on his robes.   "Bastard."

"Just ignore him," Hermione said loftily, unpacking her own bag.  

The boys exchanged a three-way "girls-just-don’t-understand" look.  

"Antidote recipes on the tables in front of you," said Snape.   "You will each brew your own, and at the end of class, someone will be selected from among you to test them..."

His eyes rested on Harry, who stared right back at him.   Go on, poison me.   See how long you’ll last if I get hurt.   What his Pride didn’t do, the Pack would.  

Someone knocked on the dungeon door.  

"Come!" Snape called over the noise of twenty fires being lighted under twenty cauldrons.  

Colin Creevey slipped into the room, winking very hard at Harry as he came.

"What’s with him?" Draco asked, watching the third year’s progress to the front of the room.  

Harry shrugged.   "Dunno.   Does this say pinch or pint?"

"Honestly, Harry," said Hermione.   "You can’t read your own handwriting?"

"I was in a hurry."   Harry’s own name caught his ear.   He turned to the front of the classroom.  

"Potter cannot come at the moment," Snape was telling Colin.   "He has work to complete."

"But sir, Mr. Bagman said all the champions, sir," Colin said anxiously.   "It’s something special about the tournament, he has to come right away, there’s a photographer..."

"Quick, poison me," Harry begged his friends.   "Before Snape says yes."

"Very well," said Snape icily.   "Leave your belongings, Potter, you’ll be coming back to test your antidote."

"Sir, Professor Dumbledore said to bring his things along..." Colin squeaked.  

It was almost worth having to sit for photographs to see the look on Snape’s face, Harry thought.   "Out of my sight," he ordered.   "Both of you."   His gesture took in Harry as well as Colin.

Harry swept his ingredients back into his bag, muttered a quick goodbye to the Pride, and followed Colin out of the dungeon.   "Are you sure there’s a photographer there, Colin?" he asked when the door was shut.  

"Oh, yeah, he’s there!   And a lady who says she’s a reporter, with blonde hair and big glasses and long red fingernails, and she wants to interview you!"

Harry groaned.   That sounded like Moony’s description of Rita Skeeter.   "More publicity," he said.   "That’s all we need."  

"Oh — oh, I almost forgot!"   Colin stopped short.   "She said she wanted to talk to Hermione too!   I should go back and get her!"

"Colin, no, you really shouldn’t—"   But Colin wasn’t listening, and Harry’s grab fell on empty air.   He debated with himself for one second, then tucked his bag behind a handy statue and followed Colin back towards the dungeon.  

"Harry!"  

Harry jumped and spun.   Ludo Bagman was striding toward him.   "Going the wrong way, aren’t you?   The wand weighing’s up along here, come on, I’ll show you where..."

"But sir, I have to—"

"Now, now, no buts, it’s your duty as a champion."   Bagman took Harry’s arm in a firm grip.   Harry considered breaking loose, but he didn’t want to hurt Bagman.   "Where’s your bag?   That boy really seems to have mangled the message, he did seem a bit overeager, didn’t you understand it?"

"No, I understood.   It’s over there.   What’s wand weighing?"   Harry retrieved his bag and followed Bagman up the stairs.  

"Well, your wand will need to be checked, you know, make sure it’s up to snuff, no little hitches or glitches.   Wouldn’t do to have a champion’s wand quit halfway through a task!"   Bagman chuckled.   "No, no, better to have an expert look it over first thing and be sure.   And then a little photo shoot, champions and judges, and maybe a few questions from Rita Skeeter, she’s a reporter from the Prophet."

"I know," said Harry, biting down on an angrier response.   "She’s written loads about... Mr. Lupin’s custody case."

"That’s right, you’re rather involved with that, aren’t you?"   Bagman moved to one side of the corridor, waving Harry up beside him.   "Know anything... interesting about it?"

"Interesting how?" Harry asked blankly.  

"Ah, never mind, never mind.   Here we are.   Here he is, champion number four!" Bagman announced, throwing the door open.  

Harry walked into the room, trying to think about ice creams and other cold things to counteract the heat he could feel emanating from his face.   Viktor Krum was standing off to one side, staring out a window.   Cedric and Fleur looked around as he came in.   Cedric nodded to him, but Fleur ignored him, returning to her conversation with the Hufflepuff.  

"And here’s the lady herself, Harry — Rita Skeeter, Harry Potter, though I’m sure you know his name already," Bagman said, ushering forward a witch in magenta robes.  

"Indeed I do, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes fixed on Harry’s forehead.   "Indeed I do."

Harry waited a moment, then, when the eyes behind the jeweled spectacles showed no sign of descending, he rose quickly onto his tiptoes, locking eyes with her and startling her into a small step backwards.   "Madam Skeeter," he said politely, holding out his hand to her.  

Rita Skeeter stared at him for one moment longer, then smiled brightly and shook his hand.   Harry kept a vague smile plastered on his face as her nails scratched him.   "You won’t object, Ludo, if I monopolize Harry for a few moments?" she asked.   "A bit of human interest, you know, youngest Triwizard champion and all that?"

"Not at all, not at all," said Bagman, waving expansively.   "As long as Harry doesn’t mind, of course."

"No thank you," said Harry quickly, yanking his arm out of the way just in time as Rita Skeeter released his hand and made a grab.   "I don’t like interviews."

He might as well have said that he was a Death Eater.   Both adults goggled at him.   Rita Skeeter recovered first.   "Well, it’s sometimes our duty to do things we don’t like," she said, smiling at him sweetly.   "And I’m sure you won’t disappoint all my dear readers, who are simply dying to know how you came up with your brilliant idea of lofting your name into the Goblet of Fire..."  

She made another grab, but Harry sidestepped.   "I’d really rather not," he said, moving out of range.   "I just don’t like being interviewed..."

The door opened again.   Rita Skeeter turned toward it and pounced.   "Miss Granger-Lupin!   How are you, it’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you — Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet, you don’t mind if I ask you a few questions, do you?   Lovely..."

"Yes, I do mind!" said Hermione loudly, digging in her heels as Rita started to drag her toward the door.   She brought her other hand around and squeezed at a certain place on Rita’s wrist.   Rita yelped and let go.  

Harry looked over his shoulder.   Cedric and Fleur had stopped talking to watch, Cedric in surprise and Fleur in distaste.   Krum had turned around as well, and he looked vaguely impressed.  

"I’m not interested in your questions," Hermione said, hands on her hips.   "Did you have me called out of class just for this?   I’m missing a very important lesson on poison antidotes right now!   If one of my friends gets poisoned and I can’t save him, it will be your fault!   I’m going back to class right now — no, I won’t answer even one little tiny question!"   This was in response to a murmur from Rita.   "If you want to talk to me, try some time when I’m not doing something more important."   She turned on her heel and marched out.

Cedric raised an eyebrow at Harry and waved him closer.   "Is she always like this?" he asked.   Fleur leaned in, and Krum drew nearer to hear.  

"Pretty much," said Harry.   "She doesn’t like being crossed, and she really doesn’t want to answer questions about... you know."

"I ‘ave seen somezing about zis ‘Ermione in ze newspaper," said Fleur.   "Somezing about a werewolf..."

"I don’t much want to talk about it either," said Harry bluntly.  

Fleur looked puzzled.   "Is it somezing to do wiz you also, ‘Arry?"

"They haff grown up together," said Krum from behind them all.   "The verevolf is a father to both of them."

"But c’est impossible!" Fleur objected.  

"Well, not their blood father," said Cedric hastily.   "But — I’m sorry, Harry, but I don’t quite understand how it happened myself."

Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and stopped in surprise at what his nose told him.   There was no hint of contempt in Cedric’s scent, only honest curiosity.   Fleur seemed a little patronizing and Krum frankly skeptical of anyone else’s abilities, but Cedric, at least, deserved a straight answer.  

"Mr. Lupin’s my godfather’s best friend," he said, drawing on the all-but-forgotten words they’d all learned shortly after Padfoot’s trial, when they thought people would never have done asking them how their Pack had started.   "Because Padfoot — my godfather, that is, Sirius Black — couldn’t live on his own after he broke out of Azkaban, he shared a house with Mr. Lupin and his wife.   So I grew up thinking about both of them like fathers.   And Hermione is Mrs. Lupin’s little sister, so she was there too."

Too late, he noticed Rita Skeeter standing nearby, an acid-green quill darting over parchment that she’d apparently charmed to float in midair.   Well, it’s not like that’s anything new.   She’ll already have heard the same from Moony and Danger.  

"Zees Sirius Black," said Fleur.   "’E ‘as a wife also?   And a daughter?"

Harry nodded.   "Her name’s Meghan, she’s a first year."   This, too, was safe territory.   He decided, a little maliciously, to give Rita something she might not know.   "Mr. and Mrs. Lupin are actually her godparents."

Fleur emitted a little squeak.  Krum’s eyebrows slanted up sharply in the middle.   Cedric looked shocked.   "Her godparents?   I... er... why?"

"Do you have godparents?" Harry countered.  

"Of course, my dad’s best friend and his wife..."

"That’s why."

The door opened to admit Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Ollivander from the wand shop in Diagon Alley before Cedric could say anything else.  

xXxXx

After the photographer was finally done, Harry left the room, evading one more try by Rita Skeeter, and hurried down to dinner.   Most of the Pride was sitting in a little knot at the end of the Gryffindor table, all laughing.  

"What’d I miss?" Harry asked, sliding into a seat across from Ron and Summoning a plate of chops.  

"After you left, Snape decided on poisoning Ron," Draco began.   "And making him take his own antidote."

Ron looked rather green, Harry noticed, and his plate was significantly more empty than usual.   But he seemed to be in good spirits.   "Everyone’s gotta do it sometimes," he said, taking a careful sip of pumpkin juice.   "And it was worth it to see Snape’s face."

"And the best part is, he couldn’t even give you detention for it," Neville added.   "Because it was part of a class exercise — what were you going to say, no?"

"I wish I could have seen it," Ginny said wistfully.  

"What happened?" Harry demanded.  

"He threw up on Snape’s shoes," said Hermione.   "And robes.   And cauldron."

Harry laughed aloud.   "Hat trick!"

Ron grinned, but it turned into a grimace.   "He finally let me have some of Hermione’s after I got the cauldron," he said.   "But I think it didn’t take right because I waited so long.   I still don’t feel right."

"Well, here comes someone who can help with that," said Luna, looking towards the doors.   Meghan came running in, hand in hand with Natalie, waving to Graham Pritchard as they passed the Slytherin table.  

"Snape," said Meghan as soon as she got a look at Ron.  

Everyone nodded.

"What did Professor Snape do?" Natalie asked, sitting down beyond Neville.  

"He had a lesson on poisons and antidotes," said Draco.  "And to make us test our antidotes, he had Ron take poison."

Natalie’s eyes widened.

"Don’t worry," Harry said quickly.   "By the time you’re a fourth year, you’ll know loads of antidotes.   And even if you don’t, Meghan can help you out."

After examining Ron, Meghan had summoned a house-elf and asked it to bring her a particular potion.   Now she poured a dose into an empty goblet and handed it to Ron.   "Drink it fast," she instructed.   "You’ll think you were poisoned again, but then it’s over."

Ron stared at the thick khaki liquid, then pinched his nose and drank it off.   Immediately he was seized with a fit of coughing, but Harry could see his complexion changing back from house-elf to human coloration.   "Better," he choked out.   "Actually... better."

"Good," said Meghan.   "Now eat something."

The rest of the Pride cracked up.   "Unnecessary words if there ever were some," said Draco.

xXxXx

"What’s in the mail this morning?" Remus said cheerily, watching Aletha opening envelopes.

"Three hate, two fan, and a Howler."   Aletha slid the fan letters across the table to Remus.   "Say when."

"Pull," said Remus, aiming his forefinger into the air.  

Aletha tossed the Howler high.   Remus shot it down with a burst of flame.   A garbled yell came from it, then nothing.  

"My turn," said Danger, grinning. "Pull."

The three hate letters disposed of, Remus read portions of one fan letter aloud.   It was a florid piece written by a witch from the east, who thought Remus was just too utterly adorable.   "Although I know you are devoted to your dear Danger," Remus read, "I wonder if you possibly have a brother..."  

"Well, sure, but I’m taken too," said Sirius, addressing the letter.   "And Moony got all the adorableness in the family."

"Yes, it skipped a generation over here," Aletha added.

"Ouch."

"What?   You said so yourself."

"Yes, but I did that in the expectation that you would tell me it wasn’t true and pet and coddle me, and now I am left alone in the cruel, cold world."   Sirius placed his hands over his heart and tilted his head back, attempting to look pitiful.  

Aletha flicked his ear.   "Stop that or you eat your next meal on the floor."

Danger turned to Remus as the squabble between the Blacks took on a predictable shape.   What about the other letter? she asked silently.  

Remus pulled the dingy parchment out of his pocket and handed it to Danger.   She unfolded it.  

Dear Mr. Lupin,

My name is Brian and I am nineteen years old.   I was bitten by a werewolf two years ago.   Since then I have not been able to find work, my girlfriend has left me, and even much of my family refuses to see me.   I pay my mother and father as much as I can for room and board, and the damage I do at full moons, but I fear that someday soon it will not be enough, and I will break out and do the worst.  

I had considered a final solution to my problems, but your story has inspired me to keep trying.   Maybe someday I will meet you at a party somewhere, and we can introduce our wives and children to each other, and talk about work and the bad old days.  What you are doing has made me think it might not be impossible.   Thank you for giving me hope again.  

Sincerely yours,

Brian Li

xXxXx

Danger went out to Diagon Alley that afternoon, alone.   "Trust me, I can handle myself," she told Tonks when the young Auror tried to accompany her.   "Nobody will mess with me more than once.   Besides, I’m going to have my hood up, and I’m not going into any stores.   How could anyone possibly recognize me?"

Tonks’ answer came back to Danger now as she hurried through the crowd.  

"They have ways..."

Someone was stalking her.  

The wind was in her face, so she couldn’t tell anything about him from that, and besides, with all these people around, one scent would probably be lost.   He, like she, wore a hooded cloak, but his silhouette was bulkier than that of anyone she knew.   And Remus was busy with Charles Scribner, working out a delicate argument for the next morning, he couldn’t help her now...

I’ll try to handle it for another minute myself, she decided.   Then I yell for help.

She slowed, parallel to the mouth of a small side alley, and risked another glance over her shoulder.   Her black shadow was gone.  

There, see?   I was making it up, thinking he was following me, when he was just headed somewhere in a hurry...

Movement beside her caught her eye.   Someone in a hooded, black cloak was making straight for her, coming in from the side.   Danger darted down the alley, her heart pounding.   I’ll find a place he can’t follow — I’ll Apparate away —

The alley was a dead end.   And now, in this small, enclosed environment, a scent reached her nose.   Blood, old, caked blood, and unwashed man, and unwashed something else...

"Well, well, little Lupin did fairly well for himself, it seems," said a gravelly, gloating voice.   A hand with yellowed, claw-like fingernails pulled down the hood of the cloak, revealing a scarred face covered with matted hair.   Stained, fang-like teeth were bared in a predatory smile.   "Let me introduce myself.   Fenrir Greyback, very much at your service."

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